EVERGREEN TREES. 



EVERGREEN" TREES. 



BY "WILLIAM BACON, RICHMOND, MASS. 



"I don't like evergreens — tliey look so cold and gloomy in winter, and it is so 

 mournful to hear the wind blow through them," is an expression, not so common as 

 it once was, to be sure, but one yet quite too familiar to our cars. The facts in the 

 case are, we are too apt to predicate opinions on first impressions, and if prejudice 

 does not establish those opinions, too often in violation of reason and good taste, it is 

 a fortunate circumstance. 



Evergreen trees and shrubs do not attract particular attention in the season of deep 

 and fresh verdure. The new-born foliage of spring spreads its fiiscinations over a 

 large surface of forest and lawn, and with the variety of form and feature it presents, 

 the eye and the mind find so wide a field of wonder and observation, that their 

 researches stop, leaving such as have retained their foliage through the desolations of 

 winter, unnoticed — almost unknown. To the careful observer, however — to him who 

 seeks for beauty every where, and sees in every form to which Nature has lent her 

 friendly touch in finishing — these evergreens present a beauty of foliage to which the 

 deciduous trees of the forest can lay no claim. How richly their young and tender 

 verdure contrast with that on the lithe twig which has stood and borne the vicissitudes 

 of devastating winter ! The Hemlock, long despised but coming to be justly admired 

 for its symmetry of form, and light, feathery foliage, is a beautiful illustration of this 

 variety of leaf, so closely joined as to give no interruption of foliage, and yet as dis- 

 tinctly marked as the termination of its branches. The Pines, the Fir, the Spruce, 

 the Cedar, and, indeed, all our northern evergreens, possess the same peculiarities, 

 though some of them, perhaps, in a less observable degree ; yet what they may lack 

 in this peculiarity of spring beauty, they make up in the richness of autumn ; for 

 when each leaf of the previous year has fulfilled its functions, and the new growth of 

 leaves have attained their size and are fully prepared to enter on their life-preserving, 

 life-giving labors, the old leaves turn to a pale yellow, and remain upon the branches 

 a few days, until their last hold on the parent twig is broken, indicating the sallowness 

 of death in contrast with the rich and healthful vigor of active life. 



"VVe have said, in a former article, that we admire all the trees of the forest. It 

 would be very strange indeed, then, if we had not a peculiar fondness for those which 

 l)resent such marked difterence of foliage in spring and autumn — and more especially 

 if we did not greet their unchanging verdure with a smile of happy recognition, in 

 the bare and desolating reign of winter. 



Smile not, reader, if you find time and disposition to read these remarks. We see 

 them, not to be gloomy appendages of earth, but rich and beautiful products, created 

 to enliven and decorate the season of storms and tempests, and while reminding us 

 of the blooming, verdant past, they give friendly assurance that Nature will again 

 awake in freshness, and that her drapery of green will again embellish the earth 

 sights to feast the eye and make glad the heart. 



